


An Interlude in Hell

by duplicity



Series: The Adventures of Harry and Mr. Tom [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Child Harry Potter, Demon Voldemort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hell's Seventh Circle, Humor, vague descriptions of being a demon in the underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duplicity/pseuds/duplicity
Summary: Six-year-old Harry Potter gives Lord Voldemort a present to take back to the underworld.Meanwhile, the demons of Hell are pondering the odd changes in their master’s behaviour.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: The Adventures of Harry and Mr. Tom [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785181
Comments: 85
Kudos: 536





	1. The Seventh Circle

**Author's Note:**

> dedicating this first chapter to Chibi 🐧! 💕
> 
> this story is a brief check-in on our favourite boys, followed by lucius malfoy having a stressful day. is it a fic written by me if lucius doesn't get stressed tf out by tom/voldemort? probably not.

Voldemort regarded little Harry Potter with a neutral expression. They were once again at the park, and this time Harry had requested for drawing materials while they sat at one of the many wooden picnic tables spaced out around the playground.

What had followed was a solid hour of concentrated doodling and colouring while Voldemort busied himself with _'not watching because it's a surprise'._

And so Voldemort had contented himself with staring at their surroundings while Harry toiled away at his artistic endeavour.

But now Harry was done. His short arms were hovering over the page, blocking it from view, ready to reveal the promised surprise to Voldemort's eyes.

"Okay, are you ready?" Harry asked, at last glancing up from the table surface, a tentative smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. Harry was always cheerful now that his cousin was terrified of even the smallest of offenses. Voldemort's nightmare-induced lessons had taken firm hold; Harry would dutifully report each time they met that no further bullying had occurred.

"Yes," Voldemort said, equal parts fond and impatient.

Harry drew back, revealing two yellow shapes and a bright purple background. Voldemort angled his head to take it in, only then Harry made a sound not unlike a yelp.

"Wait! I have to turn it around!"

The paper was rotated with haste, and then the image became clear:

A moon and a star.

The moon, red-eyed and occupying a third of the page, was obviously meant to be him, just as the smaller star with circular glasses was meant to be Harry.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked quickly, though barely a second must have passed since the artwork had been revealed.

Voldemort rewarded his human charge with a wide smile. "It is wonderful. This one here is you," Voldemort said, pointing, "and this one here must be myself."

"Yeah." Harry nodded, face flushing, and added, "You really like it?"

"I do."

Harry shifted about in his seat, indicating that he was thinking of something but was too nervous to speak his thoughts aloud.

Voldemort waited to see if the boy would elaborate on his own, or if prompting would be required. Harry fiddled with the corner of his drawing, then straightened back up, likely having come to a decision.

"Sometimes," Harry said slowly, "when Dudley draws a picture, my Uncle Vernon puts it up in his office."

Ah. The implication was sensible, and not unwarranted. 

Only Voldemort doubted that Harry knew what he was asking for in this particular case. Voldemort _did_ have an office, but it was not the typical office of a regular human worker. It was not a place where one hung drawings made by their tiny human companions.

Harry peeled his drawing up off the table, sliding it centimeter by centimeter off the wooden surface. "Um. I can take this home with me—"

The movement of the paper froze, halting Harry's attempt to pull it away.

Both Harry and Voldemort glanced down at where Voldemort's hand had pinned the opposite edge of the drawing to the table.

Strange how that had happened.

"I will put this up in my office," Voldemort said, the words louder than his usual speaking volume. "So I can appreciate it whenever you are not with me."

Harry's face lit up, brighter than the sun, lovelier than any of the joys brought from inventing a new torture pit in the seventh circle of hell.

"Really?" The hopefulness of the tone was painfully apparent.

Thus, Voldemort's response was firm. "I promise."

The end of the sentence went unspoken: _friends don't lie to each other._

Harry released his end of the drawing into Voldemort's care. Voldemort conjured a large paper envelope, knowing that this simple act of magic would also impress the boy, and placed the drawing inside with exaggerated care.

"I will keep this in a safe place until I leave," Voldemort said, enunciating while he spoke to ensure the meaning sunk in.

Harry nodded, wide-eyed. Voldemort vanished the envelope into a pocket dimension for future retrieval. Now that the question of the drawing was handled, Voldemort turned the subject of conversation to another favourite topic of Harry's: Bell's adventures in the underworld.

* * *

* * *

Lucius was having a difficult day. Bellatrix was once again creating extra unnecessary pits all over the place, disturbing the pattern of fastidious lines of pits that Lucius had so painstakingly organized in his assigned segment of hell's seventh circle.

If only Bellatrix was not one of their master's favourites, then perhaps Lucius might have tried to fill the empty pits back up right away. But if Lord Voldemort decided he liked the contents of the pits, then Lucius would not only be forced to keep them, but he would also be forced to allow Bellatrix to trespass on his territory to manage them.

It was better to let her have her fun and ignore her, then patch up the pits later, once she had forgotten about them.

So as Bellatrix approached him, Lucius shoved down his overwhelming sense of dread and mustered a sneer.

"Bella."

"Lucius."

The pause after their formalities stretched out, on and on and on. Lucius held still, did not blink, did not so much as twitch his wings lest she read it as a sign of weakness.

Bellatrix was not the patient type. If Lucius continued to wait, she would grow fed up and speak her mind. Thankfully, Bellatrix did not disappoint.

"I am calling a meeting," Bellatrix said with a haughty sniff. "Of all the highest ranking demons."

"And you require my help to summon them all?" Lucius asked, a hint of snideness leaking into his voice.

Bellatrix launched a fireball in his direction. Lucius waved it aside, having expected the attack, and extinguished the fire shortly thereafter.

"Come now, Bella. You may be favoured by our master but we both know who holds favour amongst his disciples."

All respect aimed in Bellatrix’s direction had been won by fear, which was admirable, but for _her_ to call a gathering would take much, much longer than it would for Lucius, who was on decent terms, at a minimum, with all the high-ranking demons on this level.

Bellatrix said nothing, which was as close to agreement as Lucius would ever get from her.

"Will we use the usual meeting space?"

"Yes," Bellatrix said. "Obviously!"

"May I ask what this meeting will be about?"

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed, flaring violet. She did not like being questioned. "None of your business! You'll do as I say—"

"You'll do as _I_ say," Lucius interrupted, smug, "or else our master will hear of this long before you even manage to have Pettigrew seated at your meeting."

"Our master _adores_ me," Bellatrix insisted. "Your threat is empty, Lucius."

Lucius could hear the undercurrent of nervousness, though, and so he knew that this was a rare opportunity for him to leverage some security.

"I will help you if you swear to leave my assigned area untouched for the next century."

"Century? That very idea is laughable. You _will_ help me with this, and in return I will gladly leave your pathetic pits untouched for a decade. As a favour to my dear brother-in-law, nothing more."

"Half a century," Lucius bargained.

"Three decades. The longer you spend on this, the more likely that he will return and catch us. Take it or leave it."

Lucius grit his teeth. "Fine. Three decades. Swear on it."

Bellatrix blew him a kiss. "I knew you would see it my way, Lucius darling."

* * *

Voldemort's finest demons were gathered around the large oval table. The room was drenched in darkness, save for the glaring assortment of lit candles Bellatrix had set up as the table's centerpiece.

Lucius rubbed at his eyes with the back of a clawed hand. Even after his hand had retreated, the room did not become any more comfortable to look at.

"What have you called us here for?" Mulciber drawled, slouching back in his chair. "I have a job to be doing, you know."

Bellatrix was at the front of the table—not seated, as that chair belonged only to their master—standing proud, hands braced on the table top. "I have... concerns," she breathed dramatically, casting her intense gaze around at the surrounding demons.

"Many of you may have noticed that our master has been preoccupied as of late. With what," Bellatrix said, raising her voice, "I do not know. But he has been spending more time on earth. And he reeks of humans."

A few of the demons hissed in low confusion, while others muttered hesitant agreement.

"I am concerned!" Bellatrix repeated. "Though our master is powerful, the energy required for such trips is _draining,_ and the harvest numbers have lessened lately, a fact of which you are _all_ aware of." Here Bellatrix paused to glare at them all, placing the blame squarely on their shoulders with the burning hatred in her eyes.

That was really unfair, as most of the demons gathered here were not in charge of making deals with humans. All of Voldemort's highest ranking demons were tasked with managing torture, not acquiring new fodder.

"And what do you expect us to do about that?" Dolohov grumbled. "It's not as though I can _lessen_ the amount of energy it takes to travel to earth."

One or two demons sniggered in response to this. Bellatrix let out an ear-splitting shriek, which effectively silenced the entire table.

"Enough!" Bellatrix said furiously, stomping her foot on the stone floor with an ominous cracking sound. "I want to know what is so important that none of us are permitted to know about!"

"There we are," muttered Barty. "Saw it coming."

"I want a volunteer," Bellatrix continued. "Someone who is willing to discover for me what we can best do to aid our master in his quest, whatever it may be."

This time, when Bellatrix looked around the table, she was met with dropped gazes and uncomfortable shrugs.

"Well?" she demanded. "Who will do this task? Walden? Antonin?"

Both demons shook their heads.

"Spineless cowards," Bellatrix seethed. "Come, now. Someone must be willing to try. Barty?"

"Dig your own infernal pit of suffering, Bella," Barty said, pushing back in his chair. "I think I shall return to my own business, as our master would wish for us to do."

Sensing that the attention of her audience was rapidly dwindling, Bellatrix whirled on the one person likely to cave to her whims. "Peter, darling," she cooed. "You'll help me, won't you? You'll do this task for me, for our master, and you will be rewarded beyond measure—"

Pettigrew gaped like a fish, spluttering nonsense words in response.

Barty paused to watch the interplay, as did many others who had been prepared to leave along with him.

"I—" said Pettigrew.

"Oh, _yes,"_ murmured Bellatrix, breathing heavily as she sidled over to Pettigrew's seat. "You'll do this, won't you? You'll see what our master has been doing on Earth—"

Lucius slapped a hand to the sudden burning in his forearm. Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

Terrified, Lucius looked to Bellatrix, who had frozen in place, staring in horror at the mark on her own arm, which was only now beginning to darken.


	2. Voldemort's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pettigrew draws a picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the art in this chapter was drawn by my sister. please also check out the series landing page to see the wonderful new cover art she drew as well!

Terrified, Lucius looked to Bellatrix, who had frozen in place, staring in horror at the mark on her own arm, which was only now beginning to darken.

It was far too late for any of them to teleport out of the room. Lord Voldemort would detect the trace of magic, and he would drag his wayward subordinates back from their attempted escape.

Thus, everyone scrambled to their chairs, resuming their previous positions. With any luck, Lucius thought desperately, they would be able to convince their master of some reason, _any reason,_ for this impromptu gathering.

The doors to the room burst open, slamming against the walls with a crack so ear-splitting that Lucius only barely refrained from flinching.

Lord Voldemort strode alongside the length of the table with single-minded purpose, his aura of darkness concentrated to the point of inducing nausea as he spared little to no glance at his minions.

Though terrified out of his mind, Lucius did absently note that their master was in his human form, and that Bellatrix's concerns had not been entirely unfounded. Indeed, in the trail left behind by the seventh circle's most powerful demon lord was the putrid scent of _human._

At the head of the table, Bellatrix curtsied, nearly falling over in her haste to pay respects to Lord Voldemort. But their master paid her no mind, only continued through the room and towards the adjoining hallway that led to the main command center.

From behind, Lucius spotted a large envelope wedged under Lord Voldemort's arm. Bellatrix did as well, for her eyes widened just before the door leading out shut with a sharp crack.

"He left," said Barty, sounding dazed. "He did not ask us what we were doing, or why we were gathered here, or even who is minding the pits."

"See!" Bellatrix whispered with muted ferocity. "I _told_ you all something was the matter. Now everyone must agree that someone needs to discover what is causing our master such distraction. So that we may ease the burden for him," she added.

Lucius turned away from Bellatrix and allowed himself a brief moment to read the atmosphere of the room. After witnessing their master's abrupt departure, many more demons seemed convinced of Bellatrix's opinions.

"Pettigrew," snapped Bellatrix, gesturing with a sharp-taloned hand. "Go to him. Wait outside the room and report back what you see."

"But w-why me?" Pettigrew said, voice high and wheezing. "Why not anyone else? Such an important task, s-surely someone _else_ would be better suited for this..."

"For Hell's sake," muttered Barty. He stood up. "I vote we send Pettigrew. All else in favour?"

Hands went up all around the table. Lucius almost felt bad.

"Ahh," squeaked Pettigrew, shoving back from his chair and dropping to his knees. "Please! Please don't send me! He'll leave me in the pits for a century—"

Asking demons in hell for _pity?_ Truly it was a wonder Pettigrew had even lasted as long as he had. Most other demons of his power level were relegated to the acquisition of souls.

"You'll survive," Bellatrix told him. "We will do our best to convince him otherwise. Now _hurry,_ or else I will toss you into one of _my_ own pits, and I would not be so kind as to retrieve you after a century."

They all watched as Pettigrew shrunk down, his wings and horns retracting, pulling inward until they disappeared entirely, his body caving in on itself as he morphed into the mangy form of a large brown rat.

"Go on!" Bellatrix said. She waved a hand, causing the far door to crack open the slightest bit.

Pettigrew squeaked once, hesitating. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and sent a bolt of lightning in his direction. Pettigrew shrieked softly, the pitched yelp of a rat, and scurried forward, vanishing through the gap of the door.

The room went silent; no one dared to speak lest their master return and catch them in the midst of their insubordination.

Now they would have to wait and see.

* * *

Lucius held his foot very still, an attempt to avoid tapping it impatiently upon the floor, which would be a clear tell to his state of mind.

It had only been a few minutes since Pettigrew had left, but any length of time spent in the company of his fellow associates could be agonizing. Though they could behave with civility while under the discerning gaze of their master, the same could not be said for their private gatherings.

If this took even a moment longer, a fight would break out.

That their social hierarchy was both fractured and functional was a testimony to the power of their master's leadership; lesser demons would have failed miserably at reigning in such a bunch of chaotic lunatics.

It was with this in mind that Lucius resolved to double his efforts to maintain amicable relations with as many people as possible. Especially now that the climate was so uncertain—he would be safer with allies if their master's mercurial temper swayed them all into harsher punishments.

At the front of the room, Bellatrix was now muttering to herself. The muttering was inaudible, but Lucius had some idea of what it would be about—Bellatrix was never subtle about what she thought about others.

Lucius could now envision, very clearly, the chain of events that were about to unfold.

Bellatrix would insult someone, inevitably, and someone would retort, or some poorly-kept secret would be spilled. Then the wings would be out, so to speak, and the entire room would end up reeking of smoke and sulfur and rotting flesh. Just the thought of it was enough to wrinkle Lucius' face in distaste.

Thankfully, or perhaps less thankfully, the impending disaster was cut short by the unceremonious return of their master.

Lord Voldemort re-entered the room much the same way he had entered it:

Thunderously, and with significant presence.

The doors rattled ominously against the walls as they slammed open.

Voldemort did not immediately make for the door on the opposite end of the room. Instead he paused, his violent red gaze sweeping dangerously over the frozen figures of his workers. His brows lowered, and Lucius felt a terrifically familiar jolt of fear run down his spine.

Nonsensically, he hoped that his spine was not about to be removed, because he rather liked being able to hold himself upright.

"What," said the Demon Lord Voldemort, in dulcet tones that brooked truly grave, distressing fates for all those in the room, "are you all doing? Do you not have jobs to attend to? _Get back to work."_

Most did not need to be told twice. A large portion of the room began to vanish immediately, their forms blurring into plumes of inky blackness.

Voldemort swept through all of it, once again ignoring them all as he made for the door. Evidently the terror he had struck in them was satisfactory enough for no punishments to be delivered.

Lucius was immensely relieved but also curious as to the cause of such extreme generosity.

Bellatrix and Barty, who were also still in their seats, seemed to be thinking similarly.

The three of them remained as their compatriots departed, as their master finished his trek across the room and vanished through the opposite door.

A second of silence developed, and then Lucius heard the soft sound of tiny footsteps pad into the room.

"Peter!" greeted Bellatrix. "I knew you were capable. Come, tell us what you saw—"

Pettigrew shifted back into his natural form, stretching his shoulders out. His tail continued to twitch violently, an aftermath of the intense fear he'd no doubt experienced.

"What did you see?" Barty said, tone casual, elbows braced on the tabletop as he scrutinized Pettigrew, a chilling blankness in his eyes.

"What was in the envelope?" Lucius added, in case Pettigrew was thick enough to need the clarification.

Pettigrew shifted beady eyes from one demon to the next. "I only saw it for a second," he defended himself. His voice was faint, and Lucius did not doubt that Pettigrew was likely on the edge of passing out entirely from the fear.

"Sit down," Bellatrix ordered him. She yanked a chair out and pointed at it.

Pettigrew moved shakily, falling into the seat like a limp sea creature.

"Now tell us what it was," Barty said. "Was it a map? A contract?"

Pettigrew's face pinched up. "It was a drawing," Pettigrew said slowly, like he was thinking his way through, step by harrowing step, to solving world hunger.

"A drawing of _what?"_ Bellatrix prompted. Dark clouds were beginning to gather around her shoulders, a thick covering of shadows that oozed over her wings, dripping warning signs onto the floor.

Lucius decided to spare Pettigrew further suffering and conjured a parchment and a quill. "Draw it," he said, offering the items out.

Pettigrew took the quill and set the parchment on the table. The quill hovered, not moving, in Pettigrew's hand.

"It's hard to do this while you're all watching me!" Pettigrew whined.

"Hell's sake," Barty snarled. "Hurry up or I'll shred your tail through a cheesecloth."

Pettigrew put the quill tip down on the parchment, setting the first mark down. Then he lifted his hand again, still hesitant, and said, "I need colours. The drawing was in colours."

Barty conjured an entire pack of children's markers and set it on the table with a thump. "Draw," he said coldly.

Pettigrew tore open the package and got to work.

* * *

"It's done," Pettigrew said. His forehead was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, which was, frankly, ridiculous for someone who was seated and using children's markers to draw a picture.

Speaking of which—

"What is it," Bellatrix asked flatly.

The three of them—Lucius, Bellatrix, and Barty—were huddled over Pettigrew's artistic masterpiece.

The background was mostly purple, and there were two main shapes, both yellow: one circle and one triangle. The yellow circle had a face, and attached to the circle were two black triangles. The yellow triangle had no face—rather, it was possessed of only a single, discomfiting eyeball.

* * *

* * *

"I think this one is a bat," Pettigrew said, pointing at the circle. "And this one is that human symbol. The conspiracy one."

Lucius tried, applying honest effort, to connect the meaning of this image to their master. Unsurprisingly, he failed to draw any brilliant conclusions from Pettigrew's visual report.

"You idiot," seethed Barty, blasting the parchment to smithereens with a stream of hellfire. "If you didn't see anything, Pettigrew, then just say so. Stop wasting my time with this damned nonsense."

"But I did! I did see this," Pettigew spluttered, staring down in horror at the pile of ashes that were all that remained of the past twenty minutes of his dedicated effort.

"We'll have to find another way to discover our master's plans," Bellatrix said to Barty. "I have some materials in my territory that I think will prove useful."

Barty straightened. "Let us go, then. This situation must take priority over everything else. I have a tome on scrying that will aid us—"

Lucius watched as the pair left together, thoroughly engrossed in their plans.

Well, if they were going to handle it together, all the more power to them. Lucius was fairly confident that out of everyone, Barty and Bellatrix would be best equipped to discover what their master was hiding from them.

"Lucius?" asked Pettigrew.

Reluctantly, Lucius turned to look at Pettigrew. "Yes?"

"You believe me, don't you?"

The question was so pitiful that Lucius was almost tempted to say yes.

_Almost._

He was a demon, after all.

"No," said Lucius. "Now get out of my sight."

Pettigrew made himself scarce.

Lucius shifted his attention to the pile of ashes on the table, now thoughtful. Pettigrew didn't really have any reason to lie...

With a sweep of his hand, Lucius reversed the physical change, restoring the drawing to its previous form.

Then he lifted the drawing, pinching it carefully between two clawed fingers. Just because there was no _obvious_ interpretation, that did not mean there was _no_ explanation at all.

Lucius conjured a plain envelope and deposited the picture inside. He would keep this for the time being in case a new meaning became clear. Ostensibly, a vaguely similar copy of this exact thing was lingering somewhere in Lord Voldemort's private office.

Forewarned was forearmed, and if the depiction of these two shapes had any importance at all, Lucius would be the only one with possession of this knowledge. Keeping the drawing that Pettigrew had made was a small price to pay for that possibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the art in this chapter was drawn by my sister. 
> 
> please also check out the series landing page to see the wonderful new cover art she drew as well!
> 
> feel free to leave your thoughts below 
> 
> next installment of this series will be harry's seventh birthday, so please keep an eye out for it 

**Author's Note:**

> find me & my writing updates on tumblr [here](https://duplicitywrites.tumblr.com)!
> 
> feel free to join my personal discord server for my writing (and where i livewrote this story) [here](https://discord.gg/BJRP4A5)!


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